Too Similar
by Souma Sumire
Summary: Ms. Lovelace is annoying. She is rude and ungrateful and a brat and... rather like how Will himself pretends to be... Nah, Will is just pretending. She is naturally snobby... right? Will Herondale is so infuriating! He knows nothing about Jessie and should not assume things and judge her based on them! But then why is the best of them all?
1. Chapter 1

Will watched as Charlotte tried to treat the girl. The girl kept recoiling from her touch, screaming at her not to come near her. She was screaming about how much she hated the shadow world, shadowhunters, about how she would never become one, that she just wanted to have a normal life. She was annoying.

But annoying as she was, Charlotte had called her Ms. Lovelace. Will knew that name. His dad had made sure to mention them every time the topic of his marriage to mam or of his leaving his previous shadowhunter life had come up. "I owe them my courage to leave that which was everything to me before your mam came into my life," he would say.

So Will went up to Ms. Lovelace, bent down to grab hold of the bandages and reached for her fractured hand. She tried to jerk it away but Will grabbed it, tight enough to send another sharp jolt of pain through it, and spoke to her in the voice he had been using on everyone he met for the past 2 years, the only difference was that he wasn't faking it this time, "I am only doing this because my father was fond of the Lovelaces. Don't think I'm unnecessarily concerned for someone who isn't even grateful for the help she is getting."

Will heard Charlotte beside him start to scold him and subside when she saw that the girl was no longer struggling. He made quick but precise work of the injury and put down the bandages.

He stood up, looked at the girl and the dollhouse beside her. She had leaped out of her burning house from the first floor and injured herself protecting the dollhouse. At first, he had been astonished to hear that she had valued a stupid toy more than her own life but after observing her for half an hour, he doubted it was the dollhouse that was so important to her. It was what the dollhouse represented. He guessed it was a gift from her parents.

He understood. He himself had barely brought anything to remind him of home but that was because the knowledge that had it not been for him foolishly opening that Pyxis, he would still be there was too painful. He understood her wanting something to tie her to her family.

However, she was most likely going to live at the institute from now on and this seemed like the easiest way to have her hate him, so he said, "All that for some stupid dollhouse as if you were some 7-year-old," and walked out of the room ignoring both her and Charlotte's indignant protests and Jem's resigned sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

Will managed barely a second in the institute on his feet before promptly collapsing, pulling Jem, who was holding him up, along with him. They were parabatai, a rune put by them on each other was supposed to be 10 times as strong as one put by someone else, so one would have expected them to have healed each other already, instead of arriving on the doorstep half dead. But to put on runes, you need a stele. Will's had been broken by the demon who had done much the same honours on his bones while Jem's had fallen into the Thames during the course of the fight. Hence, here they were. Will managed one blurry look at Charlotte rushing towards them with someone else he couldn't recognize, someone all gold and violet, before his eyes gave way to darkness.

He woke up in the infirmary what felt like a second later but feeling a whole lot better, to Charlotte's face. He groaned and started to sit up, Charlotte, noticing that he was awake, helped him.

"Honestly," she said, "I had a mini heart attack when I saw you collapse at the door, all covered in blood. Only fatal wounds stay open after a rune from the parabatai, you know. But then I searched both of your pockets for a stele since I hadn't carried mine and I realized neither of you had one. I was so relieved, you know, that it wasn't that the wound was so very serious. Though your left leg was nearly crushed."

"That is surprising."

"So, you had expected to really have it crushed? I hope this, at least, teaches you a lesson, since much of Jem's report of the battle was your recklessness."

"You worry too much, Charlotte, I'm the best this institute has after you. This much is nothing. More importantly, is Jem alright? He was much too exhausted to carry me after I broke my bloody leg."

"Your entire body, rather. And Jem is alright. Unlike you, he was more out of medicine than injured. Will," Charlotte leaned forward on her forearms, the look in her eyes that Will always misinterpreted. There's no way she loved him, right? He had to admit, it was hardest to convince her of his act, but he was trying that hard. "How can I help you? You've never opened up to anyone except Jem till now so I don't expect you to start now, but I know this recklessness isn't in your nature, not completely. If there's any way I can help you take care of yourself, I want to know what it is. Please."

Will was spared responding by a familiar annoying voice at the door, "Charlotte, the food is done!" and the sound of delicate but haughty feet partnering away.

Will was astonished. "You got her to cook?"

"Well, Agatha's not here now as you know and we couldn't find another temporary cook," Charlotte replied matter-of-factly.

"That's not what I meant. How did you get her to do something useful and not just be annoying?"

"She simply got tired of my cooking, as it was, in her words, shockingly plain and lacking professionalism."

"And she has that? Professionalism?"

"Actually, yes. Come on now. We'll go to dinner and you can taste it for yourself."

"I don't want to," Will being horribly rude and harsh was usually a pretense he kept up to keep the people around him safe but with Jessamine Lovelace, it came naturally to him, "As if that young lady can cook. I bet it's just looks fine. It must actually taste like charcoal." However, he rose out of the bed and made his way towards the door, towards wherever (probably the dining room) Jem was.

"That's one bet you are going to lose, you know."

Will lost the bet. Not that he admitted it, not to the others, not to himself. Jem obviously saw through him but he didn't say anything, as he had never said anything about Will's false appointments at bars despite having clearly been following him a few months ago.

Will looked up from his plate. Ms. Lovelace (she refused to be called by her first name) was staring at him, expectantly, not so subtly. It reminded him of the times Ella, who had been dismal at housework, had washed a plate without dropping and smashing it, or had done any household chore correct and then waited for an appreciation, never asking about it, because 'such things are supposed to be obvious successes'. _Stop that_ , he told himself, _this girl is not remotely similar to dear L or even wild Cecy._

He had caught her eye so there was no pretending he did not see her and just forgot to give an opinion on her skills. So he said, "Here is the perfect example of 'don't judge a book by its cover'. I had a fleeting thought, when I saw the food, that it might just be a bit better than average but what it actually is, by the angel … horrifying doesn't cover it. Traumatic, perhaps? You were right, Charlotte. This meal doesn't taste like charcoal; it tastes like cow dung."

"Why am I not surprised you know how both charcoal and cow dung taste?"

This was one thing he appreciated her for. He had seen many girls run out of the room, crying, when faced with his words. Tatiana Lightwood, Elaine Snowblood, even Juliet Bleakhand had come close. But here was a girl, who was raised in desperate safety, with desperate softness, in the mundane world at that and she was the only one who not only looked him in the eye with her own fierce, quicksand ones without a single trace of water in them but also hit back every single insult Will offered her.

"Figure of speech. It was English, not Chthonian, Miss Lovelace, one would have expected you to recognize a figure of speech in your native language by the age of 14, especially if you had all the _proper, ladylike_ education that you claim to have."

"One would also expect you to have a reason for having a tongue that foul. I simply assumed it was all the charcoal and dung you must have consumed as a child. Was I incorrect?"

"The pot is calling the kettle black. What right does someone who calls Charlotte's cooking plain and lacking professionalism have of calling me rude?"

"I simply tell the truth whereas you speak utter falsehoods simply because you cannot bear to give credit where credit is due."

"I wonder why," Will muttered. Aloud he said, "Let me tell you this one truth, Miss Lovelace. Though it pains me to admit, you are more of a shadowhunter than you think. You are fierce, not nearly as graceful and elegant as you think and your tongue, well, even shadowhunters have better ones than yours. Now I must return to my training so have a horrible day."

That night, when Will returned to his room, he saw a thin necklace on the desk beside his bed with a note under it.

 _I asked Charlotte about what you said that day and thought that your father must have wanted you to live a safe, happy life. The fact that you are here shows that you are bent on wasting all his efforts but please, if you want your family to be happy, try not to be as reckless as last night. And if you insist on ignoring this advice too, at least keep this necklace with you. I know how well it works. It will keep you alive, at the very least._

There was no signature but there was no doubt in Will's mind on who had written the note. He sat down heavily on the bed. He would return the necklace tomorrow. There was no way he could accept it; he had to make the best impression of the worst human ever. But tonight, when there was no one to watch him, he blessed her consideration, especially the fact that it was purely for his parents who had hung such hopes on him and not him, who was so rude even when the situation did not warrant it. If there was something they had both learnt as shadowhunters born in the mundane world, it was that safety matters. Honour and duty wasn't everything. "Mam... Dad… L… Cecy… by the angel, I even miss the bloodthirsty little beasts. Cadair Idris…"

 **Author's note**

'That night, when Will returned to his room, … _at the very least_.'

Too out of character for Jessie? I had doubts too but at the end, I decided that it is possible since she knows how it is to have your loved ones die.

2\. ' "Though it pains me to admit, … a horrible day." '

Too out of character for Will? Again, I had doubts too and again, at the end, I decided that it is possible.

3\. Yes, 'L' is another form of 'El' which is short for Ella.

4\. I don't know much about London, 1875. When it comes to geography, I'll research but otherwise if you think I've got something like manners or speech or anything else wrong, please comment.

5\. If you think I could improve my writing or the story in some way, please comment.


End file.
